


Unknown

by akh



Category: Bodyguard (TV 2018)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22818427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akh/pseuds/akh
Summary: David Budd is assigned to protect the Home Secretary Julia Montague only after an attempt on her life has already been made. The secret service suspect a leak in the Metropolitan police and recommend a slightly more drastic departure to keep her safe.
Relationships: David Budd/Julia Montague
Comments: 87
Kudos: 198





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well hello there. I wasn't sure if I'd ever start another multi-chapter fic for these two but apparently here I am again. Big thanks to katewinslet (ao3 user katewinslet, not the actress) for being my beta. <3
> 
> For those who would rather I continued After Hours, I'm sorry but that one is indefinitely on hold due to lack of inspiration. :/

She looks tense. That’s David’s first impression as he steps into the hotel room where Julia Montague is sitting surrounded by the secret service. She looks much smaller and less intimidating here, hunched on a sofa, than she had appeared in the ghastly videos he had watched on Youtube after receiving his unexpected orders. When she looks up to acknowledge David’s presence, her expression barely changes and her eyes soon flit back to the man in front of her, whom David only knows by sight: Stephen Hunter-Dunn, head of the secret service.

“...and because we have reason to believe you are still a target and that there might be a leak in the Metropolitan police, I suggest we move forward with this plan immediately.” He turns to look at David, appraising him for a moment before turning his back on him again to address the Home Secretary. “The Met has sent their guy, as agreed, so they can still claim it’s a joint operation.”

David can hear the note of derision in his voice.

“Our stipulation was that he hasn’t worked as part of your security team before in any capacity as we cannot be certain of the source of the leak,” Hunter-Dunn continues. “Even so, he will only be fully briefed of the destination just prior to departure. The rest of the operation is run entirely by the secret service and only the people in this room right now will know your location.”

The Home Secretary’s eyes scan the room, pausing briefly on every face without addressing any of them, until her gaze falls on David again. This time, there is a hint of question in her eyes, as if she is expecting him to say something.

“David Budd, ma’am,” he introduces himself stiffly.

She nods slightly and then looks at Hunter-Dunn again. “And he is to live with me, posing as my…partner?” She hesitates on the last word, perhaps deeming “boyfriend” unsuitable. David clenches his jaw, annoyed that rather than addressing him personally, she talks as if he isn’t even in the room.

“The two of you living together with no outside interference will draw less attention than having a guard posted by the door in rotating shifts,” Hunter-Dunn replies. “I suggest you do not leave the safe house unless absolutely necessary, and since you will have no near neighbours, it is unlikely you will have to pose as anything at all. You will simply be two people living under the same roof, but for any nosy passer-by who might ask, the story is that you are a London couple seeking solitude in the countryside. You will drive a nondescript car and draw no attention to yourselves. And most importantly, there will be no big police operation to herald your arrival.”

Hunter-Dunn glances behind him, at David, as if to punctuate the dig intended at his employer. David continues to stare ahead without rising to the bait. The pissing contest between the two establishments, as far as he is concerned, has nothing to do with him.

Interestingly, the Home Secretary’s eyes are also drawn to him, seemingly with more curiosity than before. She looks at him for a moment, as if waiting to see a reaction, but when he doesn’t return her look, she turns her attention back to Hunter-Dunn.

“What you are proposing sounds like house arrest,” she sighs, sounding doubtful. Then her eyes flit to David again. “And how do you feel about this?” she asks, addressing him directly at last.

“I will do what’s necessary, ma’am,” he replies plainly, still looking straight ahead. To tell her how he really feels would, of course, be impossible. “You can count on me.”

Again, she barely acknowledges his response as she turns back to Hunter-Dunn. 

“Well, if that’s the only way,” she says, still not sounding entirely convinced. “How long will this arrangement last?”

“We cannot say for certain, ma’am,” Hunter-Dunn replies. “We will move as quickly as possible but until we have uncovered all links behind this assassination plot, your life will continue to be in danger.”

The conversation continues on a similar track for some time, details of the plan being fleshed out in front of David until the Home Secretary is satisfied, but without him being included in the conversation or decision-making in any way. As he has been forewarned by his boss, the operation is then set in motion without any delay. After receiving orders to be ready in two hours, he returns home to pick up his already packed bag and then stops by at Vicky’s to say goodbye to his children.

He cannot tell them much, and what little he can is shrouded in lies, but there’s nothing he can do about it. He needs this assignment and the money it will bring. Due to its demanding nature, which technically requires him to be on duty all day every day for as long as the Home Secretary remains in hiding, the gig promises to pay exceptionally well.

“It’s for the better, Vic,” he tells his estranged wife when she stops him by the door, unsatisfied with the vague explanations he has been able to offer. “The money is too good to say no to. We need it for the kids, especially Charlie.” He pauses for a beat. “Besides, you clearly don’t need me here,” he adds with a hint of bitterness in his voice.

For a moment he secretly hopes that Vicky will refute his words, but she doesn’t.

“I just don’t want to have to tell Ella and Charlie that something happened to you,” she says instead. “I don’t even know where you’re going or what you’re going to do.”

David shrugs, unable to hide his disappointment. “It’s not the front line,” he says curtly. “I think I can manage.”

“David, I…” she starts as he turns to leave. David turns back, an inkling of hope reigniting in him.

“Yes?” He watches Vicky wrangle her hands, which she always does when she has something unpleasant to tell him, and the hope dies quickly.

“I’m...I’m seeing someone,” she blurts out without meeting his eyes.

The words knock the wind out of David’s lungs. Even if he could speak, he wouldn’t know how to respond. Congratulations would certainly be hollow and meaningless.

“I don’t know if it’s going to become serious but since you might be gone for a while, I thought you should know in case...in case it develops while you’re away,” Vicky expounds, her face twisting into a sorrowful expression that looks infuriatingly like pity. He hates it more than anything.

David can only nod tersely in response, pushing everything else away into the deep pit where he keeps all his other bungled emotions. 

“Thank you for telling me,” he forces himself to speak at last. “Tell the kids I will call when I can.” He then turns quickly to leave without waiting for Vicky to respond, closing his ears from whatever she is saying when she does call after him.

Perhaps a change of scenery is precisely what he needs, even if it means being shackled, possibly for weeks, to a woman he can only despise.

Back at the hotel, David finds most of the secret service agents already dispersed when he returns. Apart from the one that opens the door, only Hunter-Dunn remains with the Home Secretary. When David’s eyes land on her, he cannot help but pause for a moment to take in her change of attire. The slacks and blazer have given way to a comfortable gray jumper and a pair of jeans that seem to perfectly hug her shapely legs - a feature he had certainly not become aware of while studying her public persona online. Somebody has also been in to give her hair some extra length and a touch of lighter colour.

On closer inspection, he can still very obviously see Julia Montague, but at first glance he would not have taken her for the Home Secretary, which he assumes was the intention. If he had passed her on the street, his eyes might have lingered on her, but for very different reasons than imagining that he had just run into someone famous. The notion startles him and he quickly fixes his eyes on Hunter-Dunn instead.

After some last minute instructions to both him and his new principal, they all depart for the basement where their car awaits, packed and ready apart from David’s own bag which he quickly drops in the boot. As promised, it’s a nondescript vehicle: an ordinary, gray SUV that is unlikely to turn heads anywhere.

As he stands inspecting the car, he sees his new principal approach him.

“I’m afraid we didn’t get a chance to be properly introduced yet,” she says, extending her hand. “Julia Montague.”

David wonders if it’s the more laid back attire falsely giving her a friendlier appearance or whether this is a genuine attempt on the Home Secretary’s part to be more polite. Uncertain, he takes the offered hand and gives it a brief, solid shake. “David Budd, ma’am.”

She nods, drops her hand and then turns to stand beside him, turning her eyes to the car as well. He decides his first assumption must have been correct.

They both look on in silence as the secret service agents perform a number of final checks on the SUV. Time seems to be moving slowly and David wonders if this uncomfortable silence is what he can expect from the upcoming days, perhaps even weeks.

***

He looks tense. Julia can see the concentration in her new PPO’s eyes as she studies him through the rearview mirror while he maneuvers the car through the busy streets of London. He has been given a number of possible routes to choose from and he appears to be following one of them to the letter, making sure he doesn’t miss a single check point or change of guard during their carefully choreographed departure from the city. They have no obvious convoy or support vehicle behind them that would single them out in the traffic, but several secret service cars have been assigned to take turns following them until they have cleared the greater London area.

Julia can feel her blood run cold when they pass near the part of town where her last driver lost his life in the assassination attempt that nearly cost her hers, but this time nothing happens and they pass through the area without incident. As they move further away from the city centre, she finally allows herself to relax a little and contemplate, for the first time, the reality of what she has agreed to: giving up her everyday life and work for an indefinite period of time, in exchange for laying low in the country with a complete stranger whose only purpose is to keep her safe.

Her eyes dart to her PPO again. David Budd, the hero of October 1st. She knows that much, at least, but very little else. All of this has been set into motion very quickly - too quickly for her to feel as prepared as she would like to, especially as she has barely slept in the two nights that have followed Thornton Circus.

“That’s the last of the support vehicles, ma’am.” She hears his voice some time after they have cleared the city. Julia doesn’t look back to check. She rather suspects she isn’t supposed to.

“Thank you, sergeant,” she replies after a beat. As soon as she has spoken, it occurs to her that the title might be a little too formal, considering their upcoming living arrangement.

Or perhaps keeping a level of formality is precisely what they need. Julia pushes the report on her lap aside.

She studies the broad set of her PPO’s shoulders for a while from behind, glances at his face through the rearview mirror, and suddenly finds herself wondering if he is married or single. She catches herself quickly and admonishes herself for the thought. Whether married or not, he is her PPO now and that should be the end of that particular line of thinking.

“Do you prefer David or Dave?” she asks after a short silence. “If we are to appear to be living as a couple, we ought to be able to call each other by first name.”

“I answer to both, ma’am,” he replies as their eyes meet briefly in the rearview mirror.

Julia finds the answer unhelpful but bites her tongue. They drive on in silence for some time before she speaks up again.

“You should call me Julia when we are alone,” she says, and then adds. “And perhaps Elizabeth when there’s a chance someone else might hear. It’s my middle name and less likely to be recognised.”

David nods. “Aye, I should not refer to you as Julia in public,” he agrees. “But I can use it in private if you don’t object, ma’am.”

“I believe I just said you should call me Julia in private,” she replies testily. “I should think that implies I don’t object.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies, sounding no less formal.

Julia, in the back seat, glares at the back of his head.

“So, do you prefer Elizabeth or Lizzie?” he asks after a few beats, just after Julia has turned her attention back to the reports she had momentarily pushed aside.

She looks up and bites the inside of her cheek, hovering between annoyed and amused.

“I have never been called either,” she replies coolly. “But I would prefer Elizabeth,” she decides after brief consideration, doubting there’ll be much occasion to use it as they are not expected to socialise. If anything, she should avoid being seen at all.

“Noted, ma’am,” David replies. Apparently, he has no intention to call her Julia despite having been given permission to do so.

They are still a long way from their destination and already Julia can feel herself growing irritated by his officiousness, if that’s even what it is. There seems to be something obstinate about his behaviour that Julia thinks she saw a glimpse of even back at the Blackwood hotel, but it seems too soon to decide what to make of it and how to deal with it. For now, she resolves not to attempt further conversation during the drive.

Time in the car seems to move slowly but eventually they leave behind the motorway again and Julia decides it is time to pack her papers away. The smaller roads they follow for the last stretch of their drive seem to offer a better view of the surrounding countryside and she drinks in what she can to have some idea of the area where she will be spending the next days or weeks. She sincerely hopes that it will only be days, but either way, she doubts she will get to see much beyond the walls of the safe house during her stay there.

Dusk has firmly settled around them by the time they turn to a gravelly dirt road that David promises will lead them to their final destination. They pass a few houses and cottages here and there, but overall the area seems to be as sparsely populated as promised, giving Julia some hope that she might be able to venture out at least a little after settling in, if she can persuade her PPO.

Her eyes turn to the back of David’s head and for the first time she wonders what living with him will actually be like. She is used to someone always hovering around her when she is out and about, but this is the part of the day when she would normally start looking forward to the moment when she steps over her threshold and can start counting down the minutes to when her PPO leaves and she gets her few precious hours of privacy. She hasn’t lived with, and rarely even spent the night with anyone since her separation from Roger, and now she will have to share her lodgings, platonically, with a man she barely knows. A man who, if she had to hazard a guess, doesn’t seem to like her very much, or at least is determined that their rapport should remain fully professional.

Julia sighs. She is about to attempt a new avenue of conversation when the car suddenly starts slowing down and her attention is drawn to their whereabouts again. As she looks out of the window, the only sign of human life she can see is a small house, or a cottage, some distance away: apparently their final destination.

“We’re here, ma’am,” David confirms her suspicion as he indicates a left turn and then promptly guides the car into an even narrower dirt road that leads to the cottage.

Julia doesn’t reply. She looks at the lonely little house with a sinking feeling and suddenly misses her urban home deeply.

She gets out of the car as soon as it comes to a halt near the front door and then takes a moment to look around while David appears to be inspecting the building from outside. From where she is standing, she can’t see another house or any people in the vicinity. 

“Well, darling,” she remarks dryly, emphasising the meaningless endearment as she walks past David towards the door. “Looks like we won’t have to put up a show for anyone.”

She hasn’t reached the threshold before he feels David’s hand touch lightly on her arm.

“If you would wait, please, ma’am,” he says. “I should open the door and check the premises before you move further in.”

Julia, startled by his sudden touch, allows him to enter first and then follows a few steps behind.

“Is this really necessary?” she asks as he instructs her to wait by the door.

“I have been tasked with keeping you alive, ma’am,” David replies. “With your permission, I will try to do my job.”

Julia bites back a scathing response as she glares at the back of his head. _“With my permission...”_ she mutters to herself and harrumphs. Of all the officers the Met had to offer, they had to send her this wisecracker. She wonders if Anne Sampson did it on purpose to annoy her.

She waits for a while by the door, taking in what she can see from there and can feel her dissatisfaction growing. There is a hideous brown sofa, matched with a pair of armchairs that are equally painful to the eye, all facing a small fireplace. Further back, adjacent, is a modest kitchen as tastelessly decorated as the rest of the house.

As David disappears upstairs, Julia shrugs and decides to follow him. The door to the bathroom is at the bottom of the stairs and she takes a peek inside as she moves past it. The facility looks clean but as plain as the rest of the cottage. 

“How long is this going to take?” she asks as she starts climbing the stairs. She finds David on the landing, eyes darting between four doors that lead, presumably, to bedrooms.

“I can’t say for certain, ma’am,” he says. Without pausing to look at Julia, he steps into one of the rooms. “You should wait downstairs. I have already cleared it.”

Julia doesn’t budge. She peers over David’s back into the room he is inspecting, which seems to hold a writing desk and, looking a little out of place, an exercise bike in one corner. She makes a mental note to commandeer the room as her study and then moves further down the landing to inspect the next chamber.

“Ma’am!”

Her fingers are already on the handle when suddenly she sees David stride from the other room and push himself between her and the door. Suddenly there is no space at all between them and for a moment Julia finds herself thrown so off guard that she forgets to be annoyed by the uninvited invasion of her space. As she breathes in, the air suddenly seems to be filled with the scent of his aftershave, inconveniently reminding her how long it has been since she was this close to a man.

“Ma’am,” he repeats in a softer voice and, realising they are still standing awkwardly close, she takes a quick step back and casts her eyes down.

“I cannot let you open any doors before I have cleared the room,” he explains, sounding a little less self-assured than before, almost flustered. “It’s for your own safety, ma’am.”

Julia nods. A part of her wants to argue just for the sake of arguing, to assert that she’s still in charge despite being in a situation where almost nothing seems to be under her control, but her rational side accepts that she would only make herself look foolish by doing so.

“Fine,” she says at last, with as much aloof detachment as she can muster. “I’ll wait downstairs.”

She looks at David for a moment and he meets her gaze, unwavering, as if waiting for her to move first. Julia finds it both irritating and slightly intriguing.

_Married._ She reminds herself as a distant memory of a specific paragraph in the report on the October 1st attack suddenly and fortunately crosses her mind. He was on the train with his children. The children probably have a mother and he is probably married to her.

“Carry on then,” she says coolly and turns to walk down the stairs. “I’ll be in the kitchen looking for wine.”


	2. Chapter 2

Within a couple of days they seem to settle into something resembling a routine. Or rather, two routines that overlap only when they have to. For three mornings in a row now, David has been the first to wake, always before dawn, and never lingering in bed for long. Pulling on his sweats, he would tiptoe out of his room and pause by Julia’s door to listen for any sounds of...he hardly knows what. If he hears nothing, he pushes the door slightly ajar to make sure she is still safely tucked in her bed. Then he tiptoes downstairs to use the bathroom there, rather than the one upstairs which, by an unspoken rule, is all Julia’s domain - including the small room closest to the top of stairs that has become her study.

While Julia still sleeps, David lets himself quietly out and enjoys a solitary jog in the vicinity of the cottage, up and down the dirt road that leads to it so he can always keep his eye on the building. After working up a sweat, he moves to the patio for stretching and push-ups. From there, it’s straight to the shower, changing to his daywear and then starting on coffee and breakfast. 

By the time he sits down to eat, Julia usually starts showing signs of waking up. He can hear her upstairs, going to the bathroom as he bites into his toast. When she makes it downstairs, he is already done with breakfast and moves to the couch to watch the morning news, cranking the volume up so that Julia can watch and listen from the kitchen table, the sound of the television conveniently also drowning out any need to talk. 

It’s dull and safe and predictable - something his life hasn’t recently been - and in just a few days David finds he could actually get used to it, despite the somewhat unusual circumstances, and the company he didn’t ask for. He misses Ella and Charlie, and he misses what he once had with Vicky, but he doesn’t miss the constant noise and buzz of the city where he can never be sure what will trigger him next.

The fourth morning seems to start exactly like the ones before. David wakes up early, after finally falling into an uneasy slumber at some point during the night. The sun has not yet fully risen but he follows his new habit, gets up and pulls on his sweats, and then makes his way across the landing to Julia’s door.

Everything appears to be completely silent and so David turns the handle carefully and pushes the door slightly ajar. The faint scent of Julia’s perfume wafts into his nose and he breathes it in, unbeckoned thoughts of his principal suddenly encroaching his mind. He shakes his head quickly, trying not to pay attention to the fact that her duvet has all but slipped down to the floor, revealing her long and lean limbs and bare skin that looks soft and inviting in the morning twilight. Suddenly feeling like a voyeur whose gaze has lingered too long, when all he was meant to do was check that his principal was safe and sound where she should be, he snaps out of his thoughts and backs away from the door in a hurry. 

Once downstairs, he splashes his face with icy cold water in the bathroom and then slips out of the house through the backdoor. After taking a few moments to breathe in the crisp autumn air, feeling his pulse settle, he starts his outing by circling the building once to make sure nothing is out of ordinary. When he is certain that everything is as it should be, he heads for the road and starts jogging. Within minutes, he is running as fast as his legs will carry him, as if still chased by the all too arousing image of Julia Montague sleeping peacefully in her bed.

Rather than turning back as he normally would, too lost in his thoughts to notice his mistake, David realises he has run too far only when he can see the sea suddenly gleaming ahead of him. When he looks back, he can no longer see any sign of the cottage behind him.

“Shit,” he mutters, a sudden sense of dread filling him. He feels for his phone in his pocket but realises he has left it behind in his hurry to leave the house. David shakes his head as he spits out another expletive and then, without pausing to fully catch his breath, starts sprinting back in the direction he came from, his fear of having made a potentially fatal mistake overruling the burning in his lungs and the aching of his muscles.

Rationally, he has no reason to believe that anything would be any different than the other mornings that have passed without him even seeing another person on his run, but the thought of something happening while he lost sight of his principal spurs David on until he can see the familiar building in the distance again. There he finally slows down and soon comes to a halt to draw breath, panting heavily as he takes in the house and its surroundings, satisfied to see no movement around it. Then, as his breathing settles, his gaze moves back to the road ahead of him and he realises he’s not alone.

A man, neither young nor old, perhaps in his 50s or early 60s, seems to be walking towards him with a black labrador in tow. David tenses. While the man doesn’t appear to be a threat, he feels inadequately prepared for the sudden encounter, especially if he should decide to strike up a conversation.

David takes a few more breaths and then starts walking slowly towards the man and dog. When they get a little closer, the latter sprints towards David and, wagging his tail, starts running circles around him.

“Jasper!” the owner calls after him and the dog returns dutifully to his master’s side.

“I’m sorry,” the man says as he bridges the remaining distance between himself and David. “He gets excited easily. We don’t often run into people here this time of year.”

“You live around here?” David asks, aiming for casual.

“Half a mile that way,” the man points across the field on the opposite side of the road from where the cottage is. He looks at David for a moment appraisingly. “I take it you are renting the cottage? I thought I saw a car down there when we cut across the field to get to the road.”

David shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“Aye,” he says after a beat. “We moved in just a couple of days ago.”

“Wife and children?” the man asks, his tone conversational.

“Just the wife,” David replies. “No kids.”

There had never been any talk of them posing as husband and wife, but the words roll out of his mouth before he can stop them. He can feel his pulse starting to race again, this time for reasons other than running. He decides the conversation can’t end soon enough.

“Well I hope you both enjoy it here,” the man replies, extending his hand. “I’m sure we’ll keep running into each other, and if you and your wife ever want to visit, you’ll know where to find us. The name is Ted, and this one here, “ he bends down to give his dog a scratch, ”is Jasper. If you two come over any time, you’ll meet my wife too.”

David tries to smile. “Dave,” he says simply, shaking Ted’s hand. “I appreciate the offer but we probably won’t be socialising much.” He hesitates only for a beat. “My wife’s a writer and we came here so she could finish her book,” he lies, thankful that his recent running would give a satisfying explanation for his probably quite red face. “I’ll be amazed if I manage to drag her out of the house at all.” He tries to follow his words with a laugh and hopes it doesn’t appear too forced.

Fortunately Ted’s attention seems to be momentarily drawn to Jasper who appears to have picked the scent of some passing animal and is clearly raring to run after it.

“Well I’ll leave you two to it,” David says, relieved to have found an excuse. “I think the wife will start wondering what’s keeping me.” The image of Julia in bed flashes across his mind again and he quickly forces a memory of Vicky forward to replace it.

“Don’t they always,” Ted chuckles.

“It was nice to meet you, Dave,” he continues when David doesn’t answer. He straightens his back and lets Jasper run ahead. “I’m sure we will keep running into each other, and I hope you manage to lure your wife out as well. The scenery is quite lovely even this time of year. She might find it inspiring.”

“I’ll do my best,” David says as pleasantly as he can manage, eager to be gone. “It was nice meeting you,” he says by way of parting and, after giving their new neighbour a nod, starts moving again to avoid any further hindrance.

Ted lifts his hand, bids him a good day and then turns the opposite way to catch up with Jasper.

When David looks back after a brief jog, he is relieved to find Ted’s back retreating further and further into the distance. Heaving out a sigh, he speeds up his run again to reach the cottage without any further interruptions.

This time, still feeling uneasy, he skips his push-ups and slips straight back into the house. As soon as he has shut the door behind him, he listens for any signs of life from upstairs but can hear none. It gives David pause. He had expected Julia to be awake by now and cannot help his anxiety increasing again when faced with a completely silent house.

He makes his way upstairs, trying to listen for any sounds from Julia’s room as he goes. On the landing he pauses in indecision - afraid to open the door in case he ends up seeing too much of his principal again, and afraid not to, in case something really is wrong. Before he can decide, he suddenly hears the creak of a floorboard followed by soft padding of feet. He doesn’t have time to react before the door opens and Julia steps out, still wearing nothing but her camisole.

David swallows, suddenly frozen on the spot. At the same moment, Julia’s eyes flit to him and she looks visibly startled to find him standing there. For a moment neither of them moves, eyes raking each other from head to toe.

Julia doesn’t speak but her eyes seem to be asking what he is doing here. None of this is part of their new routine. According to their unspoken contract, he should be downstairs right now, finishing his breakfast, instead of gawping at her while still wearing his running gear, probably reeking of sweat. David doesn’t know where to even begin explaining.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he says at last. Despite having allowed himself to think of her as simply ‘Julia’ by now, he still steadfastly clings to addressing her as ‘ma’am’ out loud, as if it would somehow help maintain a cool, professional distance. It’s a status quo that Julia has done nothing on her part to challenge either, and it has served them well for three whole days.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he says, finally averting his eyes to the floor, deciding explanations can wait. “I will be downstairs.”

Without waiting for a response, he turns on his heel and hurries down the stairs, quickly locking himself into the downstairs bathroom. There he gives himself a long, hard look in the mirror as he removes his clothing, for once shying away from the sight of his scars. They remain a stark reminder that he has no business being in any way attracted to a woman whose political views he abhors and who by all accounts is as cold and manipulative as she is heartless and without conscience.

Still, when he steps into the shower, the image Julia, clad in her lace-trimmed camisole, returns to his mind and he lets out a deep groan. The stream of water that washes over his body hardly feels cold enough.

***

Julia watches David disappear down the stairs, and then releases a breath of relief. She runs a hand through her hair and tries to process what just took place. It almost feels too long ago now that she’s had to encounter anyone before having had her morning shower or made herself look presentable in front of a mirror - not since Roger, and even with him their schedules had rarely merged enough for them to see each other first thing. Whatever other trysts she has had since, have not included the morning after, which brings Julia to the other point: she is also not used to running into sweaty men reeking of testosterone first thing in the morning - as if she needed any more reminders of how much she needed to get laid.

Brushing the thought aside, Julia opens the door to the bathroom and slips in. She examines herself for a moment in front of the mirror and wonders, not for the first time, what David sees when he looks at her. She knows she is an attractive woman - knows that most men like what they see at least until she opens her mouth - but she has never particularly cared whether men like her or not as long as they serve a purpose, be it professional, political, intellectual, or purely physical. But David doesn’t seem to fit any previously crafted mold. She can leverage no professional or political gain from him, she doubts they share the same intellectual pursuits, and even physically he is off limits, and yet Julia cannot help but feel that she would rather be liked by him than not.

Considering she still hasn’t decided if she even likes _him_ , it seems an odd thing to want, but there is something about his doggedness and complete unwillingness to please her that Julia finds intriguing. If nothing else, it’s a refreshing change to the many evenings she had recently been spending with Rob, prior to this escape, trying to get him to concentrate on work rather than on her.

Julia runs a hand through her hair again, looks at her make-up free face for a moment and then shrugs. She turns the faucet on in the shower, leaves it running to reach the right temperature while she removes her flimsy nightwear and then steps under the hot stream of water.

As her thoughts turn back to David, damp sweater clinging to his broad chest, still heaving from whatever physical exercise he’d engaged in, she closes her eyes and lets her fingers slide between her legs, the moisture pooling there already mixing with the hot water running down her skin. She imagines his hands where the water caresses her body and bites her lip as she can almost hear a whispered, raspy _“ma’am”_ in her ear. It doesn’t take long before she finds the release she seeks.

By the time Julia emerges from the bathroom, satiated, refreshed and satisfied with her appearance, she can smell the welcome aroma of coffee wafting from downstairs. She pauses for a moment at the top of the stairs to rein in the smile that tries to tug at her mouth and then walks down with a perfectly rehearsed air of complete indifference.

Her second surprise of the morning greets her as soon as she turns the corner at the bottom of the stairs and finds David still sitting at the kitchen table, instead of on the sofa where she usually finds him, cranking up the volume of the news to avoid talking.

“Good morning,” she says primly as she sits down opposite David. Instead of looking at him, she reaches for the coffee pot and pours herself a cup.

“Morning, ma’am,” he replies tonelessly.

As Julia reaches for the toast, she debates whether she should continue to act as if this is the first time they see each other this morning, or if she should somehow broach their earlier encounter. Before she can decide one way or the other, David clears his throat.

“I should apologize, ma’am, for earlier,” he says.

When Julia glances at him, she finds him looking at her intensely.

“Why? You live here too,” she says, averting her eyes. She picks up her toast and starts spreading butter on it.

“There is more, ma’am,” David replies. When Julia shoots her eyes at him again, he looks uneasy.

“What do you mean?” she asks, lowering her butter knife.

“I went outside,” he starts. “I have been going every morning, for a jog, but I always keep the cottage in my sight,” he explains quickly.

Julia had suspected as much. The first morning she had slept lightly and woken to the sound of him going out, despite an obvious attempt from him to remain quiet.

“That’s hardly a crime,” she says after a beat and then returns her attention to her toast.

“Technically I shouldn’t leave your side ma’am,” he replies seriously. “You have no other protection here.”

“I have the walls around me,” Julia sighs wearily. It has only been three full days, and already she is tired of looking at them. She finishes buttering her toast but realises she doesn’t have much appetite for it. She bites into it anyway, just to have something to do.

For a moment they both fall silent. David doesn’t respond but Julia can sense there is still something he wants off his chest. She has seen the same look on her aides too many times - that reluctance to get to a point when there is something they would rather not say. Granted, David with his stony face and controlled mannerisms is much less obvious about it, but she hasn’t made it this far in politics without being able to see when someone is withholding information.

“Well, spit it out,” she says at last, growing impatient. “What did you really want to talk about?”

She looks up at David expectantly. He meets her gaze without withering under it.

“I ran into a neighbour,” he says at last.

Julia processes the information for a moment. “Well, that was to be expected sooner or later;” she says after a beat. She weighs the situation and then continues: “Did you talk?”

“Aye, ma’am,” David replies. “It was unavoidable. I told him you are a writer and likely to keep to yourself as you want to finish your book.”

“Good thinking,” Julia nods, pleased with the explanation. She picks up her coffee and brings the cup to her lips, mulling over David’s words. She spends most of her time in the study anyway, trying to do as much as she can from a distance. She might as well be there writing a book.

“There is one more thing, ma’am,” David continues, bringing Julia’s mind back from work to the present.

“What?” she asks casually, taking a sip of her coffee.

He hesitates a moment and Julia raises her eyebrow. She is about to repeat her question when he finally blurts it out.

“I told him we are married,” he says and Julia thinks he can see a blush creeping up his cheeks.

She swallows her coffee and clears her throat.

“I know that was not part of the plan,” David continues before she can say anything. “But he made the assumption and I went along with it.”

Julia nods slowly. She reasons with herself quickly that pretending to be married is no different than pretending to be in a relationship, seeing as neither of these things bear any relevance to how they behave behind closed doors. It doesn’t make them any less of a pair of strangers to each other.

“Well,” she drags the word as she tries to think of what to say. She had not expected to wake up a married woman this morning but at the moment she is more intrigued by David’s obvious discomfort.

She wonders if marriage as an institution matters more to him than it does to her after years of being married to Roger. She wonders again if he already has a wife and if it’s the thought of her that makes this so difficult for him.

“That hardly changes anything, does it?” she ventures at last.

“No, ma’am,” David replies. His face appears quite inscrutable again. Whatever momentary chink there had been seems to have been done away with.

Julia releases a breath she had not realised she was holding and then brings the cup back to her lips, aware that David’s eyes are now fixed on her as if looking for any chinks in _her_ facade. She takes a sip of her coffee, determined that he will not find any.

“Well, then,” she says, putting the cup down again. “Seems like that’s all sorted.”

David doesn’t reply with anything more than a slight nod of his head.

The question Julia has wanted to ask for some time starts buzzing in her head again. The opening now seems too perfect not to bring it up. She clears her throat and does her best to affect an air of nonchalance:

“Is there a real Mrs. Budd?” she asks. She glances at David and then drops her gaze on her toast.

“Yes, ma’am: Vicky,” David replies without any hesitation. It’s exactly what Julia had expected to hear but still she can feel something like disappointment shift in the pit of her stomach. As she processes the information, she hears him add that they have two children.

That part Julia already knows.

“What are their names?” she asks conversationally, eager to move on from the wife.

“Ella and Charlie,” David replies, his tone slightly softer than before.

For the first time it occurs to Julia that as much as she hates this arrangement for herself, this assignment must be hard on her PPO as well.

“All this must make your home life difficult,” she voices that thought out loud but when David doesn’t reply, she realises she has probably overstepped a mark. It’s obvious that he has chosen to keep all personal matters to himself.

“I’m sorry, that was private,” she adds quickly, ready to abandon the subject. “I shouldn’t have…”

“No, it’s…” he starts and then stops. “Well, you’d know, ma’am. This separation from everyone you love...”

He trails off and Julia swallows.

The truth is she doesn’t know. There isn’t anyone in London that she would loathe to be seperated from for any period of time. In fact, she’s rather glad not to be forced to see and remain polite to a number of people even in her own political party, let alone the opposition.

But she does miss being close to where it all happens. As much as she tries to stay abreast with everything from a distance, it’s not the same. With every passing day, instead of easing into her new situation, she remains acutely aware of how much she is missing back home, but it’s not at all what David is talking about.

She fears that he can see right through her and does not reply. Instead, she lets out a hum that vaguely resembles agreement and lets the conversation end.

As David does not pick up his option to continue it either, they both return to their breakfast in silence. A few more minutes pass in that fashion until he finally stands up, excuses himself, and walks over to the sofa to his usual spot. Julia watches him go, thoughtfully chewing on her toast as he picks up the remote and turns the TV on, cranking up the volume to drown out the silence.

And just like that, everything seems to quietly return to the safe track that they have been treading for the past three days.

Instinctively, Julia glances at her left hand where Roger’s ring had once been and then shakes her head. She looks at David, admirably focused on the BBC morning show, or at least pretending to be, and takes another sip of coffee. She wonders briefly how he would react if she joined him on the sofa, but knows full well that she isn’t going to do so.

She will finish her breakfast, thank him for preparing it and retire upstairs where she knows he won’t disturb her. The last thing she needs now is to be distracted by her own bodyguard.


End file.
